


indecision married with a lack of vision

by gigawatts



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: "thwarted by a clip-on tie.. it's like prom night all over again, Established Relationship, Fluff, Freelance Husbands, M/M, Oneshot, all the hardcore homies know the one, also small reference to that line in the glazed mcguffin affair, anyways this is gay, basically this is max laying in bed like a rat thinking abt how much he loves sam, haha me, max pov but like. It's third person yknow, max sucks at feelings but is in love w sam, maybe I'll write a second chapter someday, reminder this is unfinished pls don't get mad, seinfeld theme, takes place before the cartoon, this is very cheesy and unfinished, very small insignificant reference to 305
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigawatts/pseuds/gigawatts
Summary: Sam and Max get ready for bed and Max regards his (embarrassing) feelings for his partner. very short oneshot that I may or may not add onto later. :o
Relationships: Max/Sam (Sam & Max)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 108





	indecision married with a lack of vision

Such a mundane everyday task should not have evoked such a thorough self-psychoanalysis.

Max had rubbed his eyes and trudged into the living room to find Sam watching his recorded daytime soap operas, something Sam would only do under the dark cloak of night and preferably without Max around to ridicule him. Sam, fully ready to click off of the program and avoid getting bullied at his choice of programming, grabbed the remote and alerted Max not to come any closer at the risk of being tased. Max, not paying attention at all to what was occurring and having only one real objective to his plight, instead quickly crawled up into Sam's lap and begrudgingly asked him to come to bed.

Alright... simple enough.

Sam smiled his warm and dopey smile that Max hated with every fiber of his fuzzy white being and absolutely did not love at all and/or think about at every waking moment and agreed to come to bed with him.

So now they’re were in their room, with Sam getting ready for bed.

Sam absentmindedly stood at the dresser putting away his striped tie whilst wearing nothing but his ridiculous and utterly terrible purple plaid boxer shorts. Max sat snuggly (and smuggly) under the covers of their bed from across the room while regarding how much of an absolute doofus Sam looked in his shorts. Max had to laugh at this pathetic display, so he did. Except, the laugh didn't come out quite as mocking and menacing as he might have liked, and he grumbled and sank into the covers even further when he realized that he had just _lovingly chuckled_ at Sam in his underwear. Disgusting. Who does that?

Max thought harder on this; (a task only getting more difficult as he was painfully comfortable in their shared bed.) Was he turning soft?

Well, okay. He was always physically soft. Being the most handsome and desirable little bunny rabbit in the entire universe and beyond for all 30-something years of his life so far made being "soft" a requirement. He broke hearts everywhere he went - dames swooned at his heels while he drove by on his flaming motorcycle and then was picked up by a giant robot falcon and dropped several hundred feet in the air into a vat of toxic waste only to re-emerge as a giant and equally as cute and marketable Godzilla-sized rabbit, about to wreak havoc on-

Dammit, side-tracked. Shortly put, Max was fluffy and soft. It came with his rabbity nature. But inside, where apparently things "counted", he was not soft. Max didn't care about many things, or many people, or much of anything, really. He didn't think about people's feelings before he acted out and said rude (but hilarious and intelligent and objectively correct) things to them. He grew up not caring about how people regarded him because he always considered their emotions to be second to him having fun.

However, while Max laid in his and his partner's shared bed, waiting for him to come and lay down with him so he could mooch off of his body heat, while lightly and warmly laughing at the absolutely ~~pleasant~~ horrific sight of him in his underthings -

God. Well that just explains it, doesn't it.

Ever since Sam and Max had been... "together," Max's manly and steel-plated and testosterone-dripping heart was turning into gelatinous goo.

Ugh. It wasn't _fair._

Max had spent all of his life being a cold-blooded battle tank of terrifying carnage and fiery destruction (his words), and now his canine business associate _(his 6 foot, intelligent, perfect, devilishly handsome, kind, wonderful, strong, utterly built in the arms but you wouldn't know that would you Diane because you could only DREAM of having this sexy hunk of dog meat for yourself instead of that bloated and useless gas-station attendant husband you have at home - yeah, that's right, cry. Cry about it. Sob even. Sob forever. He's mine, Diane - BUSINESS ASSOCIATE)_ was throwing a wrench into his diabolical plans.

And for what? What good came out of suddenly being utterly useless around Sam? 

Sure, it was a long time coming, that's for sure. For as long as he could remember - which Sam would laughingly argue was only to last week - Max had been utterly drawn to Sam. And once he figured out what "feelings" were (horrendous and disgusting little things), Max knew that he had them for Sam. He recalled a particularly memorable and cringe-inducing event on the greasy site of their junior prom where Max swooped in to plant a wet smack on Sam's lips only to get thwarted by his tacky clip-on tie falling off into Max's grubby hands. Max went home kiss-less and Sam went home blissfully unaware but confused as to why Max apparently hated his tie so much as to haughtily throw it in a nearby garbage can.

Admittedly, Max had - ugh. Ew. Barf - loved Sam from the beginning. (Jesus Christ.) 

And, also admittedly, Max had been perfectly fine with just staying Sam's best friend and partner against crime. He believed it was better to suck in all those gross, mushy emotions until they dissolved anyways. They didn't need to bring "romance" into it, and risk ruining their perfect friendship. And besides, Max knew that Sam would never see him that way. It's not like he didn't notice when they would wrap up a daring case and see some pretty dames flirting with Sam and then sometimes Sam flirting back. So what? They were pretty. Sam is handsome and dapper and a gentleman. It's fine.

It's fine. It's fine. It is _fine._

Max was perfectly ready to just pine after his sweet and unknowing best friend until he died; like a yearning gothic babe in dark, diaphanous robes mourning the loss of her beloved's heart to the well-off and enchanting mistress across the bay. Was it because he had to? Or because of the drama of it all? Probably both.

And yet... after a very _bad_ series of events that included a doggie detective turned giant electro-magnetic hydra monst- oh wait-no, _here_ it was a psychic devil bunny turned Lovecraftian horror creature (sorry, he always messed that up) and a reunion via creaky and unreliable put-back-together elevator, the craziest thing in the history of forever happened.

All of a sudden, Max was finding Sam... confessing to _him._

What!

And not just confessing like, "I used your toothbrush to scrub out the toilet bowl," or "don't look now but I might've totaled the DeSoto... again... this week," but like... y'know... love stuff. Feelings, and junk.

Sam had poured his heart out to Max that night like a gushing poet, telling him how he couldn't stand that he had lost Max, and blah blah blah something something the "realization of a lifetime" and something about losing a "vital part of his being," whatever that means. Basically, Max was just stunned at what this meant.

Sam had told him he'd loved him.

And then Max blushed like a schoolgirl and they kissed and all that and it was all painfully cheesy.

Even more amazingly, Sam acted like it wasn't obvious that Max loved him back. As if. Like Max _wasn't_ flirting with him on the daily with the ferocity and rigor of a cartoon bully hunting math nerds for sport.

So... here they were. Months later, Sam getting himself ready for bed, Max under the covers waiting for him. The domesticity of it gave Max gas.

Like they were some old _married_ couple. How outlandish was that?

"I'll be right back, little buddy," Sam said gently, derailing Max's train of thought. As Sam walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, Max grinned to himself. He loved when it was late at night like this and they were about to go to sleep, because Sam's voice was always extra low and gruff and Max just thought that was the cat's _pajamas-_

Ugh _NO!_ This is the problem! What kind of mushy and gooey thought is THAT? This is so EMBARRASSING.

Max put his palms to his eyes and internally groaned. This man was going to absolutely ruin him without even trying, or knowing, even. And at this point, with the way things were going, Max was _definitely_ going to let him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the abrupt ending! I hope u guys enjoyed this little tiny oneshot... I love writing them but I find it really difficult writing them in character. Feel free to let me know what you thought, ways I could improve, or even fic ideas! 
> 
> Anyways thank you for reading and have a lovely day!


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